


Sick Of The Blood

by lesbianophelia



Series: Canon Compliant [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, Canon Compliant, Canon Typical Violence, Character Study, Ficlet, Gen, Oneshot, Peacekeepers, told backwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of the blood, and from what I've seen, most of it is on Peacekeepers' hands." - Peeta Mellark. (Mockingjay Part One deleted scene.)</p><p>Or, five times Peeta Mellark couldn't help the way he felt about the Peacekeepers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Of The Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So many thanks to Gentlemama, who is always willing to headcanon jam with me, and who pointed out that Peeta probably knew the sound of the whip from living in the Square.

**_05:_ **

 

He is seventeen years old, and he doesn’t fight the Peacekeepers that close in on him when he gives the warning. Not as he falls to the ground, trying not to cry out from the blows that they land. If he’s honest, he doesn’t know how much fight he has left in him.

 

Katniss has more. He hopes badly that she has more fight left than he does.

 

**_04:_ **

He is engaged to Katniss. Still too young to be married, but not old enough to avoid an uncomfortable meal with his family. Katniss asks him to run away from the district with her, and he tells her yes – _of course,_ he tells her yes – but makes the mistake of admitting that he doesn’t think for a minute that she will. It makes her angry, and he follows after her when she storms off, accusing him of not knowing her at all.

 

He hears it just as he gets Katniss’ expression to soften. Just as her scowl looks less betrayed and more thoughtful. He watches as she lifts her chin and then he places the sound. “Come on.”

 

She follows. The crowd is too thick to see through, but he finds a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offers her a hand up, but he blocks her way when he sees what – _who_ – the crowd is gathered around. She tries to force her way back up but he stops her, whispering hardly for her to _get out of here_. It isn’t enough, though, to tell her that he’ll be home in a minute, because she yanks her hand from his and pushes her way through the crowd.

 

Haymitch reaches her before Peeta can, just a moment after she’s cried out that the peacekeeper is going to _kill him_.

 

Peeta is the one to remind everyone that Gale is her cousin, taking her arm and reminding the head peacekeeper that she’s his fiancée.  “So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.” He means it, too. When Katniss’ eyes remain trained on her, he knows that she can tell he’s being honest. Did she think he wouldn’t help?

 

They’re it. The only three people in this district who could make a stand like this. And he’ll be damned if he’s going to let Haymitch be the only one to look out for Katniss.

 

**_03:_ **

He is sixteen years old. On the Victory Tour following his and Katniss’s unprecedented joint victory, watching Katniss as gives her thanks to the people of District Eleven. The crowd gathered to see them is blocked in, lined with Peacekeepers, but he actually managed to forget about them while they spoke.

 

Until Katniss turned back to get her flowers, looking disoriented after the crowd’s reaction to her last minute speech. Terror runs through him, stone cold, when he watches just over Katniss’ head as the man who gave Rue’s whistle is dragged to the top of the steps. When the Peacekeeper puts a bullet straight through the old man’s brain.  

 

Then the rest of the Peacekeepers come. Blocking their view as they march towards them, guns held lengthwise. “We’re going!” he says, shoving the Peacekeeper pressing on Katniss before he can help himself. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.”

 

His arm encircles her and guides her back into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers follow a pace of two behind, but he walks them quickly, only really breathing again when the doors slam shut behind them and he can hear them retreating.

 

**_02:_ **

 

He is twelve years old. So warm he’s almost _hot_ inside the bakery while the girl with the voice that makes the birds stop to listen shivers in the cold outside. She is hunched over behind a tree, so small that he can barely make out her form. But his mother is screaming at her all the same. Threatening to call the Peacekeepers on her. Calling her dirty names like _thief_ and _trash_ and _worthless_ when she shuts the door.

 

Peeta is so startled that he gets distracted. Wrapped up in the fears that generally accompany the word _Peacekeeper,_ only this time with Katniss in the place of the men and the women that he’s seen dragged into the Square.

 

The bread is burned. He accepts it when his mother hits him and then heads out the back door to break yet another rule. Katniss Everdeen looks almost like the thief his mother thinks she is when she runs from the yard with the shirts tucked under his shirt. But there is light in her eyes, for maybe the first time since the mine explosion.

 

He holds his breath and hopes that the Peacekeepers are all inside, sheltered from the rain.   

 

**_01:_ **

 

He is seven years old the first time he sees it. Standing at the counter with his parents, watching proudly as his friend Delly bites into one of the cookies that he helped to frost. His father is chatting with the shoemaker about their children, their shops, the general state of the District. Peeta is getting impatient, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

 

He wants to know what Delly thinks of his cookie. His mother had been angry with him – had said that there was too much frosting on the cookie and that they’d never make a profit if he kept being so _wasteful_. And he had nearly cried, but then his father took his side – for maybe the first time _ever_ – and said that he’d get the hang of it eventually. And his mother had this funny little sad smile when his father mentioned how heavy handed _he_ used to be with the frosting when they were kids.

 

He’s just opening his mouth to speak when his father stiffens. His mother cranes her neck, trying to look around the Cartwrights without being rude.

 

“Don’t look, kids,” Mr. Mellark says, his voice harsher than Peeta’s ever heard it around customers. This is the stern voice, reserved for moments when he’s made his mother particularly angry, or he and his brothers have been very bad. Obediently, Peeta’s eyes drop to the floor. But then he hears it.

 

Sobbing. Coming from outside the bakery doors. He looks up just in time to see a Seam woman being led into the Square with coarse rope tied around her wrists. She is protesting and fighting and pulling against her restraints, but then she doubles over in pain when one of the Peacekeeper hits her with one of the blunt sticks that Peeta has seen hanging from their belts.  

 

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks. “What did she do?”

 

“Peeta!” his mother snaps. “Your father _told_ you not to look. Go see if your brothers need your help in the back.”

 

“But –”

 

“Go. _Now_ ,” his mother continues, pushing at his shoulder. “When I say to do something, you _do it._ Don’t you, Peeta?”

 

“Yes,” he mumbles.

 

“Yes, _what_?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and shuffles to the back with his head hanging low. He hears a whistle and a shout from outside the bakery.

 

His oldest brother frowns when he repeats his question from earlier.

 

“How should I know?” he asks gruffly. “She broke the rules. She’s getting punished for it.”

 

“But –”

 

“No _buts_ , Peeta.” He shoves a broom in his general direction. “Get to work before Mom and Dad come back.”  
  
  
  


He didn’t realize that the peacekeepers were there to _punish_. He’s only ever seen them _help._ Knows nothing other than what a comfort it is, seeing the shiny white uniforms as the men and women marched through the streets, making sure that the citizens of Panem are safe.

  
 _There must be a reason_ , he justifies. _The peacekeepers must be doing their job._ But he can’t help the funny little pang in his stomach as he sweeps up the flour from the day’s baking.


End file.
